


Shedding

by rivendellrose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellrose/pseuds/rivendellrose
Summary: A short bit of Garak/Bashir written for LJ user coramegan. Posted on LJ back in October of 2007.





	

“Garak? Garak, are you...” The temperature in the small quarters was turned up noticeably higher even than Garak’s usual preference, and the humidity had somehow been raised to the point that Julian felt as though he was parting a physical veil of vapor. “Er... are you alright?”

“I’m _fine_ , Doctor. We really must talk about your tendency to barge into my quarters, however. You could find me in any of a number of awkward and improper states, you know.”

Julian tilted his head, trying to follow the sound of his friend’s voice through the steam. “What have you done, Garak? This place feels like a sauna!” 

“That’s the general idea. Please, Doctor, if you insist on coming in, let the door close behind you. You’re letting in a chill.” 

_A chill... in a room that has to be well above fifty degrees Celsius. Only a Cardassian would worry about a draft in those conditions._ He winced and unfastened his uniform jacket, folding it neatly on a chair found by touch. And then unzipped his under-tunic, as well, and rolled up the sleeves for a bit of extra airflow. “Alright, Garak. Now, what’s going on?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

That was the voice of a lie if ever Julian had heard one, and not even a good attempt at one. “Don’t try that cheery tone on me - you haven’t been in your shop for the last three days, and you didn’t return my calls when I tried to check on you after you didn’t show up to our lunch.”

“Ah.” The Cardassian sounded distinctly put-off, even slightly apologetic. “I didn’t realize it was Wednesday already. I will simply have to owe you.”

“No, you’ll have to... Ow! Your sofa wasn’t there the last time I came here!”

“I’m sorry that I rearranged my furniture without your permission, Doctor. I’ll be sure to clear all further reorganizations with you, alright? Now, please. I’m not in any state for company at the moment, I assure you.”

“Oh, no. The last time you put me off like this was that debacle with the implant, and I am not letting you put yourself through something like that again. I’m not leaving until I know what’s got you holed up in here, and...” Julian’s foot hit something that clanked dully, and he bent down to investigate. Smooth and slippery, vaguely cylindrical... wait, there was another one. And another... “Garak, are these bottles of kanar?”

“They were.” The man’s voice sounded almost miserable, now. “I’m afraid my order with Quark wasn’t quite generous enough for the endeavor. I underestimated.”

“There have to be at least... five bottles! Garak! Are you trying to drink yourself into a complete stupor?”

“Very astute, Doctor. I can see why you were at the top of your class in medical school,” the Cardassian sneered. “Please - if you’re not going to say something helpful, you might just as well leave.”

“I can’t be helpful if I don’t know what’s... oh my.” Julian had finally traced Garak’s voice, and the steam, to its origin. In the cramped bathroom attached to his living room, Garak had literally constructed an impromptu steam sauna, and was currently buried up to his neck in steaming-hot water that had been glazed with purple bubbles of some kind. He was also glaring at Julian with an intensity the doctor had never seen before. “I... er... I had no idea...”

“If you had been _listening_ to me, rather than prattling on about your inane worries, perhaps you might have realized that there might be legitimate reasons for my decision not to come out and meet you at the door.” 

Julian flinched. The haughty glare that accompanied those words was all the more painful for his knowledge that, yes, this time it was completely his fault. “I thought you might be in danger. You never tell me if you’re having some kind of legitimate medical trouble, and I...” He looked a bit closer, the fog around the other man dissipating somewhat because of the way his entrance had moved it around. “And I’m still not convinced, now that I think of it. Your skin is dry and dull, and it’s just not like you to lock yourself away from your shop. You’re not well, are you?”

“I’m _fine_ , Doctor. This is a perfectly normal condition. Now go away.”

“Ohhh, no - if this is something medical, I need to pay attention to it! A normal contagion for one species can be the next interplanetary plague if it’s not properly observed.”

“Then by all means, sit at my bath-side forever while I peel!” Garak snarled. “It’s not a _contagion_ , Doctor. It’s... a private matter,” he finished quietly, staring at his hands, resting just above the bubbled film of the water. And sure enough, they did seem to be... peeling. 

“You’re... my god, you’re _shedding_ , aren’t you?”

If Julian had thought he’d been on the receiving end of withering stares from Garak before, here was proof that he’d had no idea how bad the situation could truly become. This look could have burned through the bulkheads if misdirected. Fortunately, at least by the chief’s frequent insistence, Julian’s head was harder than deuterium.

“What part of the concept _private_ is not getting through to you, my dear doctor?”

“I’m sorry, I just... Federation science has theorized for years that Cardassians might possess that aspect of a reptilian metabolism, but there was no evidence that anyone could ever...” 

There was that glare again.

“And of course there never will be, at least not from me,” Julian added quickly. “I would never use information from your medical file or our conversations together without your permission. It’s only that I... From a xenobiological standpoint, this is fascinating!”

“And from a personal standpoint it’s impossibly uncomfortable. I’m sorry to ruin your fun, Doctor, but unless you’re going to be of assistance, I’d very much appreciate being left alone to my misery.”

“Is it really that uncomfortable?” 

“Let me think about that. _Yes_. I’d like to see you shed your entire upper epidermis, particularly under conditions that are hardly optimal.”

Realization dawned as Julian put together the heat with Garak’s frequent complaints about the coolness of the station’s standard environmental settings. “The temperature. And the steam. You need this to shed?”

Specific questions, oddly, seemed to calm his friend down. “Not _need_ exactly... Either way the skin will eventually come off. But it’s a good deal less comfortable if the conditions aren’t right. Yet another way in which this station no longer offers ideal living conditions for a Cardassian. Too cold, too dry...” The Cardassian looked down at his hands again, clearly embarassed. “But that’s all been handled. It’s really not necessary for you to stay here, Doctor. As you can see, it’s merely a normal biological imperative. In any case, it’s too hot in here for you. I can’t imagine Constable Odo or Captain Sisko would be pleased with me if I told them that you just _happened_ to pass out in my quarters.”

The words, and the disappearance of the adrenaline rush that had accompanied his fear for Garak, brought the heat rushing back to the forefront of Julian’s mind. Sweat was practically pouring down the small of his back, and his hair was plastered to his skull. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? You don’t look very well...”

“I’m fine, Doctor. It’s simply a long and uncomfortable process that I had hoped not to have to deal with for another few years. As our metabolisms slow, shedding becomes less frequent, and with the temperature of the station... I had rather thought I might avoid it.”

“Maybe there’s something I can do...”

“Doctor. You’re going to be ill if you don’t leave.”

Julian snorted. “Please, Garak. I’ve been in hotter climates before, I was just... better dressed for those times. It’s... what, fifty-five degrees Celsius in here?”

“More like sixty, if I’m recalling your system correctly,” Garak replied primly, as though that sort of temperature was a perfectly normal arrangement for one’s quarters. And probably it was, for a Cardassian, Julian reminded himself. 

“Alright. Just... let me take this off.” The sweat-dampened under-tunic peeled from Julian’s skin rather like a parody of the shedding process Garak was going through. “Er... I hope you don’t mind, but it really is too warm in here for this sort of clothing. It won’t kill me, I just... need to make sure my skin can breathe. So to speak. Er... that’s mostly how humans cope with high temperatures,” he added, uncertain of how much Garak actually knew about human biology. The Cardassian was certainly eyeing his bared torso with a rather more interested look than Julian would have expected. Although to be fair, the doctor realized, he really hadn’t known what to expect from Cardassian physiology, either, before the situation with Garak’s implant had necessitated a first-person examination.

“Are you quite sure you’re alright, Doctor?”

Julian started a little and forced his attention back to the present, and away from the intriguing network of scales and bony ridges that showed through the murky purple water. “Of course. Why?”

“You’ve turned rather... pink. It looks unhealthy.”

“I... oh. Flushing. Er... human capillaries tend to become more highly active in intense heat.” Julian sat on the floor and began to pull off his boots. “Perfectly normal reaction. We only have to worry if I begin to turn _pale_ , really.”

“What are you doing, Doctor?”

“Heat loss. Humans lose most of our excess body heat through our feet and the tops of our heads, so if I’m going to stay here with you, I need my boots off for better ventilation.”

“You really don’t need to stay.” 

“Garak, I’m your friend, and I’m your _doctor_ , for God’s sake. I assure you, this is...” Well, he couldn’t exactly say it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, could he? And that was unlikely to be Garak’s concern, anyway. Knowing the Cardassian emphasis on secrecy and xenophobia, it was probably just a matter of keeping aliens out of their private affairs. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone about what I’ve seen here. It’s only that you admit this isn’t going the way you’d expected, and I want to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“It just _itches_ , Doctor. It won’t kill me. Although I might wish it would,” Garak added in a low growl, scratching at his shoulder. 

“Here, let me see if I can--”

“Doctor. One moment.” Garak’s voice sounded decidedly strained, and Julian pulled back, uncertain and unwilling to provoke his friend when he was already in distress. He’d been on the recieving end of the other man’s temper a few times, and it wasn’t something he was eager to relive just now. 

“Yes?”

“You should... Forgive me, but I don’t think you quite apprehend what you’re suggesting.”

“It’s alright, Garak, I was only going to suggest that I could reach your back better than you can. If we get a scrub-brush or something...”

“I’m aware of what you meant, my dear doctor. And what _I_ mean is that there are connotations to what you’re suggesting that I don’t think you’re aware of.”

It took a moment for the significance of Garak’s pause to sink in, along with the curious intensity of his eyes, but when it did Julian felt more than a little like a child who had tried to tell a grown-up joke he’d overheard and, in the process, had discovered it was a good deal more grown-up than he’d intended. “Connotations... oh. As in sexual connotations. This is usually something that a... lover would assist you with?”

“Precisely.” Garak smiled wanly. “On Cardassia, the process would usually occur once every five years or so - much more frequently for children and youths, of course - and a lover or close family member might sit with the individual and help them, if they needed it. A healthy adult doesn’t often require much help, but it can be a convenient respite, and a way to enjoy... uninterrupted companionable time, resting in the heat and water of a bath house.” The smile grew more distant and polite. “As dearly as I hold our friendship... I rather doubt that was the impression you wanted to give off.”

There was something in Garak’s expression just then, a wistfulness that struck Julian suddenly as significant. In an instant it was gone again, and if Julian had been any other than who (and _what_ ) he was, he would have doubted his senses, figured his mind was playing tricks on him in the heat and the dim light. But he’d learned long ago - shortly after the last of the genetic modifications came into effect - that his senses were more than trustworthy. After seven years of shared lunches and conversation, of near-death brushes and long chats about life, literature, and philosophy, every conversation he’d had with Garak now shifted. 

“I never thought of it that way,” Julian admitted. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what he was referring to, but Garak nodded as if he understood. “I rather thought you hadn’t.”

“Where does this... put us, then?”

Garak smiled. It was strange, to see such an oddly tender expression on his face, when moments ago he’d been growling at Julian to leave the room. “My dear doctor... as much as I would enjoy leading and nudging your thoughts in whatever direction I desire, I’m afraid that, in this case, the decision is entirely yours. I would hate to see what Chief O’Brien and Captain Sisko would do to me if they thought I had unduly pressured or manipulated you in a situation like this.”

“They wouldn’t...” Well, to be honest, yes, they probably would, if they were to find out. And with Garak’s eyes steadily focused on his, Julian could understand why. The man had clearly been a natural inquisitor. 

When had that predatory and insightful expression joined the list of random things that got Julian’s blood pumping a bit faster than usual? 

The answer came almost immediately, and gave Julian what he needed to continue with their conversation. “ _Do_ you have a scrub-brush of some kind? Even just a rough cloth would help, I expect.”

For a moment, he thought Garak would argue - the only time Julian had seen his friend more shocked was on the holosuite, when Julian had followed through on his threat to shoot Garak if he didn’t cooperate with the plan to rescue Dax and the others. Rather than respectful caution, however, this surprise melted into something a good deal more welcome. 

“If you insist, Doctor. There’s a brush on the floor over there...”

With Bashir’s back turned, Garak smiled. Not exactly the seduction he would have imagined... but it would do just fine.


End file.
